


Worth Your While

by sterica



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Hogwarts AU, M/M, Mentions of Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:58:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterica/pseuds/sterica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop looking at me.” Oliver says, noticing for the eighth time that Connor hasn’t stopped staring at him since he sat opposite him in the library just ten minutes ago.</p>
<p>“I need your help.” Connor is still smiling and Oliver half-hates himself for the way he always bends to Connor’s will. “I’ll make it worth your while.”</p>
<p>Hogwarts AU - Connor always gets Oliver to help him out with his pranks. But when it goes wrong, it backfires only for Oliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Your While

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DewdropsAndCrowns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DewdropsAndCrowns/gifts).



“Stop looking at me.” Oliver says, noticing for the eighth time that Connor hasn’t stopped staring at him since he sat opposite him in the library just ten minutes ago. He’s trying to work on a Charms essay but the heat of a pair of brown eyes and the tapping of a familiar foot has been distracting him.

There is no reply, only an infuriating smile that indicates the boy wants something, and Oliver’s the one to give it to him. The main reason it’s so infuriating is that Oliver is seldom able to refuse Connor. It’s typical of the Slytherin boy to just sit across from Oliver when he wants a favour, knowing that eventually Oliver will look up, knowing that Oliver wants what he’ll get in return.

Sighing, Oliver decides it’s better to just be upfront with this boy that he can’t quite place a label on. Are they friends? Are they lovers? They definitely _were_ both but lines are blurred and Oliver doesn’t even know if Connor really likes him like that. He wishes that the two of them had something real.

“What do you want?” Oliver asks, slamming a textbook shut and putting his quill down, earning a sharp look and a “shh!” from Madam Pince. He begins to realise that Professor Keating is just going to have to give him detention for not doing his Charms homework, again because of Connor Walsh and his reckless plans.

“I need your help.” Connor is still smiling and Oliver half-hates himself for the way he always bends to Connor’s will.

“You think I’m that easy?” Oliver asks. “You say jump and I’ll say how high?” He isn’t really annoyed at Connor, just annoyed at himself for always doing whatever Connor wants.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Connor says, flashing him a look that can only be described as bedroom eyes, making Oliver swallow in such a way that makes Connor’s grin even wider.

It’s been a over a month, since they fucked. Oliver doesn’t know why it hasn’t happened again, all he knows that the only thing that’s kept him going for thirty-four days is the memory of it, how it was so different from all the other times. Connor had let him top, spread out a willing canvas for Oliver’s lips and hands. He had taken his time, wanting to show Connor how much he cared, how much it meant that this wonderful boy would even look at him. He’d traced patterns with his fingers on Connor’s ribs, licked a trail from below his belly button to below. He thinks of the way Connor shuddered when Oliver wrapped his lips around his length, the moans that emerged, the way his fingers scrabbled at the sheets before finding their way to Oliver’s shoulders.

The look in Connor’s eyes that night is the last thing Oliver thinks of before he comes alone in his dormitory with a _Muffliato_ charm cast around his four-poster bed. Oliver would be ashamed to say that he thinks about Connor most nights.

“Is that a promise?” Oliver says, trying to sound confident but his voice is shaking in such a way that it only does when Connor insinuates that something might happen between them again.

“Do I ever break my promises?”

He definitely didn’t break his promise when he scared the living daylights out of Oliver by asking him to search out the Bloody Baron with him. He certainly didn’t go back on his word the time that he accidentally turned Oliver’s hair bright pink by charming the drink in his goblet. Every time Oliver has done Connor a favour, they’ve fucked. That’s how their relationship works.

Oliver has come to think of sex as a reward. It’s something he earns. Connor has never once not given him what he deserves.

Abandoning all pretense of argument, Oliver begins packing his books, parchment and quill into his bag. “What do I need to do?”

.

The plan is pretty basic. Honestly, Oliver’s surprised that Connor isn’t going with something more original, but he’s not complaining. All the two of them need to do is sneak out of the castle at night and walk over to the Hippogriff pen and collect some shit. Then, they’re going to take it back into Hogwarts in order to set it on fire outside the Gryffindor boys’ seventh year dorm before they return from dinner.

All this is because Connor is pissed at Asher for some reason that Oliver can’t quite grasp, possibly involving some misplaced bubotuber pus.

After he’s been briefed on the plan, Oliver goes back to the Hufflepuff dormitory. On the way, he runs into Michaela Pratt, a Slytherin student who happens to be passing by. Somehow, he’s gotten to talk to her recently and she’s discovered his huge crush on Connor and surprisingly always encourages him to go for it.  

“You know, I can tell from the smile on your face you’ve been talking to Connor.” Michaela remarks slyly.

Oliver winces. “Am I really that obvious?”

“You’re about as subtle as a _Decoy Detonator_.” Michaela deadpans, then adopting a serious expression. “You know, you’ve got to tell him how you feel sooner or later. It’s your last year, you might not even see him after Hogwarts if you don’t step up.”

This is a thing that Oliver has been trying to avoid thinking about. He’s never seen Connor outside of Hogwarts - unless you count running into him in Hogsmeade and once at the Quidditch World Cup. They’ve been occasionally sleeping together since fifth year but they’ve never really been close enough to arrange to meet up. Thing is, Oliver is terrified of telling Connor how he feels about him. To Connor, it’s just sex and pranks. Oliver has been privy to Connor’s past relationships - the minute it starts getting serious, he runs. Better to have him as a friend with occasional earned benefits than not have him at all.

“I’m not going to embarrass myself in front of him.” Oliver says.

“Connor likes you.” Michaela tells him. “You’ve just got to help him admit it.”

Oliver decides not to reply, knowing that there’s no use. Michaela will believe what she wants to believe and Connor will continue on being someone who holds no interest in Oliver beyond a pranking partner and a fuckbuddy.

He goes via the kitchens on the way back to his dorm, to stock up on food for the night. If they want to pull their plan off, they need to skip dinner. Oliver knows from experience that Connor is never in the best mood when he hasn’t eaten.

He knows Connor in every way. Back to front, inside out. He knows the way his lips turn down when he’s writing a potions essay, knows the way he rolls his eyes when Asher Millstone says absolutely anything. He knows the way his eyes shift guiltily when a Professor asks him if he was the one who executed the latest prank, and the way he’ll always eventually own up because he wants to take credit.

He knows the way that Connor gets passionate when he talks about going into magical law, when he speaks of the work of Hermione Granger and wonders if he could ever follow in her footsteps. He knows the way Connor worries about everything, and that Connor sometimes has two am panic attacks that can only be soothed by touch and Honeydukes chocolate.

He knows the sound of his breathing when he’s fast asleep, can picture the way his hands rest on his stomach until he rolls over and pulls Oliver closer to him. He knows how Connor’s breath feels on the back of his neck and the way they stay cuddled together for hours after they’ve had sex.

He knows Connor so well that there’s absolutely no way he could think that the Slytherin boy would ever be in love with him.

.

At seven in the evening, Connor is waiting just outside the Great Hall, holding a sack and a shovel in his hands like it’s nothing.

“Hey, Mr Inconspicuous.” Oliver says as he approaches, satchel over his shoulder. He takes the items and puts them into the bag, thankful for the _Undetectable Extension Charm_ he’d thought to cast on it earlier.

Connor acts like the previous exchange didn’t occur. “So, there’s one small thing I may have forgotten to tell you.”

Oliver sighs.

“I’m terrified of Hippogriffs.” The look Connor gives him indicates that he’s almost embarrassed.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver wonders to himself why he isn’t even surprised. Probably because Connor always finds a way to drop a bombshell, like the time they were going to charm all the objects in Professor Delfino’s office to the ceiling and Connor admitted that he didn’t know the spell and that he wasn’t sure whether Professor Delfino would _actually_ be on the other side of the castle, something that ended up in the two of them getting caught and being put into detention with Filch, of all people, for a week. Of course, Connor had felt guilty enough to ‘reward’ Oliver ever night of that week, so Oliver wasn’t really complaining.

“Connor Walsh, afraid of something?” Oliver teases. “I didn’t think Slytherins knew what fear was.”

“That’s Gryffindors, idiot. Slytherins just don’t like to admit to it much.” Connor’s still smiling but it’s an awkward one, like he’s just shared something with Oliver the he maybe shouldn’t have shared.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Oliver says.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” Connor says, again. From the smirk on his face, Oliver can see that Connor knows the effect it has on him.

“Oh, really?” Oliver says, beginning the walk out of the castle.

“When have I ever said that and not meant it?” Connor says, lowering his voice. “Have you ever walked away feeling like I haven’t given you everything I’ve got?”

Oliver doesn’t trust himself to speak without stuttering. He just keeps walking, his steps getting faster. He pretends not to hear Connor laughing behind him.

Oliver has gotten very good at pretending that his heart doesn’t beat at twice its normal rate when Connor is anywhere near him.

. 

It’s almost dark by the time they reach the Hippogriff pen, the rest of the castle all enjoying the evening feast in the Great Hall. They’ve eaten some food on the way, Connor’s appreciative groans giving Oliver mixed feelings about bringing food with him.

They stand silently in front of the pen for a few moments, both of them taking in the majestic forms of the three Hippogriffs that are currently hosted in the Hogwarts grounds for Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

“Shall we…?” Oliver asks, wondering if Connor is really as scared as Hippogriffs as he says.

Connor nods. “Yeah, yeah, I can do it.”

“We’ll do it together.” Oliver says soothingly, knowing that Connor doesn’t want to admit weakness but does probably need him by his side.

Oliver walks towards the gate and opens it, noting that it attracts the attention of the three hippogriffs.

“Remember to keep eye contact.” Oliver says. “Don’t blink.” He hears Connor step into the enclosure behind him, his breathing heavy and loud.

The two of them bow in unison, Oliver fancying that he can hear Connor’s heart beating. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that the Slytherin boy is shaking. It takes a minute, but it seems like the longest minute of his life. Eventually, the three Hippogriffs bow in return.

Care of Magical Creatures has always been one of Oliver’s favourite subjects, after Arithmancy. He strokes the Hippogriffs while Connor shovels the shit into three sacks, full almost to the top - enough to seriously mess with Asher.

Oliver doesn’t acknowledge Connor’s sigh of relief when they exit the pen and he makes no remark when, Hippogriff shit stowed away, their hands join together again.

“It’s only half seven.” Connor says. “Why don’t we have some fun out here?”

“When have I ever said no to you?” Oliver asks, noticing that he’s becoming like Connor, answering a question with a question.

The two of them begin to head into the Forbidden Forest and Oliver realises that he’s so much different when he’s with Connor. He begins to feel more free, more alive even. Bravery has never been a quality Oliver possessed much of, nor was he ever someone who broke the rules before he knew Connor.

Until Fifth Year Oliver was just a typical Hufflepuff - loyal to his friends, happy to be at school and okay with just blending in with everyone else. Connor changed that for him. In fact, when Connor came along he seemed to change everything.

.

Oliver ends up shoved up against a tree, hands tangled in Connor’s hair as the two of them kiss. He doesn’t know how he’s so lucky, how Connor could really want to kiss him so much that he couldn’t make it back to the castle. It isn’t soft, or gentle, or any of those things. It’s tough and demanding and it’s absolutely everything Oliver wants of Connor. He knows he can’t have all of him, or have him forever. He’s glad to get as much as he can.

He feels Connor beginning to get hard, which speeds Oliver up too. Connor pulls away for a second to look Oliver in the eyes, to just stare at him, eyes raking over his whole body in a way that makes Oliver shake.

“I missed this.” Connor mutters absentmindedly, almost as though he’s saying it to himself, before looking shocked at the fact he said that and going back into kiss Oliver, his hands moving lower this time, causing Oliver to groan into the Slytherin boy’s mouth. It’s been thirty-four days since Connor touched him like that, thirty-four days since Oliver has been able to vocalise how being around this strange boy makes him feel.

Oliver is aware of Connor undoing his belt, then sinking to his knees. Oliver isn’t prepared - it’s been thirty-four days since they fucked but it’s been forty-eight since Connor sucked him off and the mouth of this boy is like nothing else he’s ever felt. The way he uses his tongue to swirl around his head, then lick a stripe along the underside of his cock is able to drive Oliver wild. He plants his hands against the tree he’s leaning against, feeling as though a _Jellylegs Jinx_ has been cast on him. He doesn’t hold back the noises he makes, having been encouraged by Connor on more than one occasion to let him hear it. It doesn’t take long until Oliver comes, groaning out Connor’s name like a wish, like a prayer. Oliver leans his head back against the tree, trying to regain his composure before looking up to see that Connor is palming himself through his robes.

“Let me help.” Oliver says, falling to his knees, locking eyes with the boy in front of him.

Connor lets him take charge, something that is strange to Oliver. It used to be all about Connor giving to Oliver, like he was just repaying a debt, but now it seems different.

Maybe it’s the orgasm, or the moonlight, or the way Connor looks wiping come off his face, but it gives Oliver the courage to tell the other boy how he feels. He begins to think maybe Michaela’s right, maybe Connor does like him back.

“Connor, I need to tell you something.” he begins, already shaking. “I-I think you’re amazing. I know that I’ve seemed like I’m happy with this arrangement for the last couple of years and I _am_ but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you that I can’t help wanting to do other things.”

“Like what?” Connor questions, his voice cold. Oliver is already regretting beginning to speak but he can’t stop now.

“Like maybe talk to me other than when you need a favour.” Oliver blurts out, knowing it’s the wrong thing to say but not being able to help it, or take it back. “Like maybe treat me like a friend and not a convenience. I know you don’t love me, I know I’m just being childish and stupid and unable to appreciate a good thing when-”

“Wait, wait.” Connor says. “I _like_ you, Oliver.”

“I more than like you!” Oliver exclaims, surprised at the volume that emerges. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I hate myself for it. You’re hurting me but I can’t stay away.”

Connor seems shocked. “I don’t know what I can say. You knew what this was from the start.”

Oliver takes a few steps back, leaning against the tree once more. “I love you.” he says. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“You know I don’t do boyfriends.” Connor says.

“Maybe I don’t do casual.” Oliver replies, tears starting to spring from his eyes. He begins to walk off, deciding that he can’t stand another second with a boy that will never love him back. He can’t resist looking over his shoulder and turns back to see Connor rooted to the spot, a desperate look in his eyes that Oliver doesn’t know the meaning of.

.

Oliver has only been in the Forbidden Forest on a limited number of occasions. Even then, he’s always been accompanied by someone, whether it be Hagrid for a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, or a boy who is about to break his heart.

This means that he has absolutely no clue where he is. The tears that are now freely flowing down his cheeks don’t seem to be helping. He may be a Hufflepuff, but he’s still too proud to call out for help from Connor. He doesn’t want to look at the boy again, can’t face him like this. He knows it was stupid to confess his love for Connor - he’s known since fifth year that Connor could never love Oliver back.

For a moment, Oliver just lets himself sit down in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and cry. The sobs rack his body until his head is aching and he feels sick. His vision is blurry, so he takes off his glasses and wipes them on the edge of his robes, getting rid of the tears smearing the glass.

After a while feeling sorry for himself, Oliver realises that he has to get out of the Forbidden Forest - after all, there’s a reason it’s forbidden and it’s even worse at night. Sadness dissipates and panic begins to take over - Oliver has absolutely no clue how he’s supposed to get out of the forest. Running away from Connor has completely disorientated him and now he doesn’t even know what direction to go in. It occurs to him to use the _Four-Point Spell_ for navigation but he can’t even remember which direction he has to head.

Oliver feels utterly lost and alone. He decides that maybe he should give up his pride. He can face Connor if it means getting out of the forest unscathed.

“CONNOR!” he yells. “CONNOR!”

He doesn’t know what else he can yell but the name, so he keeps on shouting until his throat is hoarse. He realises that there was a reason he never did anything adventurous or risky before Connor. Maybe he can get himself into such situations, but he’s absolutely awful at getting himself out. His skills lie in the safer part of the grounds, tending animals or sketching runes, Charming teacups or stunning opponents. It’s all a lot easier in the light of day and outside of places labelled ‘Forbidden’.

Oliver waits. Connor doesn’t appear.

It was always Connor that had panic attacks, but now Oliver feels as though he’s on the verge of one. He puts his head between his knees and focuses on breathing, knowing he can’t get out if he can’t even breathe or see through the tears now returned to rolling down his face.

He begins to hear noises in the distance. At first, he imagines it’s the footsteps of Connor, coming to save him and maybe declare his undying love for him, but it’s not. Looking up, Oliver can’t quite believe what he sees before his eyes, but there’s no mistaking what it is. A huge beast is standing before him. Only now does Oliver notice the full moon hanging in the sky.

There’s a werewolf right before him. There is nowhere to run. The beast begins to howl.

Just before his memory blacks out, Oliver remembers a startlingly clear thought: This isn’t fair. This shouldn’t be me. I didn’t do anything wrong.

.

Oliver wakes to raised voices outside the hospital wing.

“You have to let me in to see him!” says a voice that Oliver recognises but can’t quite identify. It’s someone he cares about, someone he thought didn’t care about him. His mind is foggy and he aches all over. He doesn’t want to think about anything.

“He’s not fit for visitors right now.” another voice responds. “I understand, Mr Walsh, that you’re worried but you will just have to wait.”

“It should have been me.” the voice outside the door is fainter now. “Please, let me come and see him. I need to tell him-”

The sound of a door slamming reaches Oliver’s ears. A woman walks over to him, a woman who he now recognises as Madam Pomfrey.

“You’re awake.” she says briskly. “Good.”

“W-what happened?” Oliver says, realising as soon as he speaks that his throat feels as though it’s on fire, his lungs feel as though they’ve been filled with bubotuber pus and his mouth tastes like Polyjuice Potion.

“Your parents have been owled and are on their way.” Madam Pomfrey replies, ignoring Oliver’s speech. “Let me get you something to drink.”

He isn’t told immediately what happened and his memory is foggy. He remembers sneaking out of the castle to the Hippogriff enclosure with Connor, he remembers what they did in the Forbidden Forest. Slowly, it comes back to him. He remembers his confession, he remembers the tears streaming down his face when it was finally confirmed that Connor didn’t feel the same. And then he starts to remember the reason he’s in the Hospital Wing. When he realises what has happened, what he now is, he cries out, Madam Pomfrey immediately appearing at his side 

She gives him a sleeping potion and he’s thankful for all the time he is given to forget. He needs all the respite he can get.

Oliver knows that he’s a werewolf. This is going to change his whole world.

.

When he wakes up, his parents are hovering over him. The look in their eyes makes me want to go back to sleep. It’s a disconcerting mixture of sadness, pity and disgust. Oliver can’t decide which emotion is making him feel the most sick.

They want him to come home. At first, they act as though he has no choice in the matter. It’s not safe for him to stay there, they say. Oliver stops himself from asking whether they mean it’s not safe for him, or for the other students. He doesn’t want to leave Hogwarts. He loves his parents, but Hogwarts is his home - it’s where all his friends are, it’s where _Connor_ is. Even if Connor never speaks to him again, Oliver at least wants to be near him for as long as he can. They’ve got seven months left before their seventh and final year is over. At this rate, Oliver doubts that he’ll ever see Connor after Hogwarts is finished.

Oliver is relieved when his parents agree to let him stay, after conversation with Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster. There’s a way for them to make it safe. The only thing that really stings it that he can feel the relief coming off his parents in waves.

.

Connor doesn’t try to visit again, as far as Oliver’s aware. He asks himself why a hundred times a day, each answer to the question making him ache. He’d thought, even if they weren’t going to be friends anymore, Connor might at least come and say goodbye.

Weirdly, people who he doesn’t really know do. Oliver doesn’t spread the fact that he’s got lycanthropy, being fully aware of the stigma attached to it, aware of the fact that most people would recoil away in disgust, fear or loathing. He knows that some people would think him monstrous. The official cover story, provided by Madam Pomfrey, is some disease with a stupid name that Oliver has never heard of before. It’s not infectious, or visible, but it gives him an excuse to recover in the hospital wing and disappear once a month.

Michaela is the first visitor she gets. She perches on the chair next to his bed and eyes the surroundings with disgust.

“I’ve never been in here before.” she says. That doesn’t surprise Oliver, that perfect Michaela with her top grades also has impeccable health. “It doesn’t exactly help to cheer you up.”

Oliver huffs out air, not caring enough to laugh or reply but not rude enough to leave her comment unacknowledged.

“I know Connor hasn’t visited.” she says. “You know he’s an idiot, right?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” Oliver says.

“I don’t even know what there is to talk about, Oliver.” Michaela sighs. “You’re completely in love with him. He’s completely in love with you. He’s just too scared to admit it.”

“What’s he got to be afraid of?” Oliver says. “He isn’t afraid of anything.” Apart from Hippogriffs, he silently adds to himself, a grin appearing on his face that he hates himself for. He can’t stand to think that the boy who broke his heart can still make him smile.

“Did he ever tell you about Aiden?” Michaela asks, a grim look appearing on her face.

Oliver shakes his head.

“Oh, Oliver. Of course you don’t understand. Aiden broke Connor’s heart.”

“I thought Aiden was your boyfriend?” Oliver asks, confused. The guy in question is a seventh year Ravenclaw - he’s never been someone that Oliver paid much attention to, so he doesn’t know any more than that.

Michaela nods. “Yeah, he’s different now. But back then he was a closeted bisexual. I don’t think he really understood that he _could_ be bi, so he was angry. He was with Connor back in fourth year, and Connor fell completely head over heels. It was the first relationship either of them had had. Aiden made them keep it secret, didn’t want anyone to know that he was dating a guy. It got harder and harder on Connor - he started to feel like Aiden didn’t really love him. Aiden felt so awful about his sexuality that he was getting drunk at parties and making out with girls he didn’t know. He didn’t tell Connor about any of this, always making sure he wouldn’t find out. When he did… When Connor found out he begged Aiden to stop, telling him he still loved him and was willing to make it work. Aiden broke up with him, telling him it was a stupid idea that the two of them could ever work out. He had a lot of internalised homophobia back then. It really hurt the both of them.”

“Oh my God.” Oliver says. “That’s why he’s so afraid of relationships?”

“You should have seen him after the break up.” Michaela says. “You didn’t really know him back then, but he’d changed. Honestly, he’s hardly the person he was before. I only see him be that person when he’s around you. You make him the person he’s supposed to be, Oliver. 

“Connor doesn’t want to be with me.”

Michaela glares at him. “You have got to be kidding me! Connor loves you more than he loves anything. He’s just terrified that if he commits, one or both of you will fuck it up. He cares about you so much that he’d rather have you in a limited capacity than none at all.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t force him to say he loves me, if he even does.” Oliver replies. “Maybe he’s been hurt, but I’ve been hurt too. I’ve been att-” He stops himself before talking about the werewolf, realising that he doesn’t want everyone to know.

“If you saw the way he looks at the moment, you’d know how much he cares.” Michaela says, before walking out the room without saying goodbye.

Oliver is left in a state of not knowing what to do with the information he’s just been given.

.

For some indecipherable reason, Asher Millstone comes to visit Oliver. Asher has a strange relationship with Connor, some weird Gryffindor vs Slytherin rivalry coming into play. Oliver secretly thinks the two have more in common than they’ll ever know.

Asher would be an okay person, if he weren’t such an idiot. He’s always using incredibly obnoxious phrases. Oliver spends most his conversations with Asher hoping that he’s being ironic, but knowing in his heart that Asher is, if nothing else, 100% sincere.

Weirdly, today Asher is almost serious.

“Oliver!” he exclaims as he walks into the Hospital Wing, attempting to high five the Hufflepuff and stopping when he realises that Oliver is making no attempt to do such a thing. Sighing, he lowers his hand and eases himself into the chair next to the bed.

“We don’t talk, Asher.” Oliver points out. He’s in a bad mood, bored from being locked up in the Hospital Wing for five days, confused about his conversation with Michaela and still just wanting to feel Connor’s lips on his again, even if it’s only one last time.

“You talk to Connor.” Asher points out.

“Not anymore.” Oliver sighs, wishing Connor’s friends would just leave him alone. It makes Oliver realise how few friends he has, as only a few have bothered to come and visit, and only for a couple of minutes.

“Look, dude.” Oliver flinches at Asher’s word choice. “I’m here because, even though Connor is a dick, he deserves to be happy. And all of Hogwarts apart from you and him know that the only way he’s gonna be happy is if you give him the D. 

Oliver flinches again. Asher seems to notice the reaction, “Don’t act like such a virgin, dude, everyone knows what the two of you have been up to.”

“I don’t get why everyone is asking me to get with Connor when he’s run away from me when I’ve suggested it.” Oliver is on the verge of tears of frustration. “We never did things that normal couples do. We never were a couple. I’m not going to go running after him like a desperate teenager.”

Asher raises an eyebrow, “Are you not a desperate teenager?”

Oliver almost growls. “Unless you’ve got anything else to tell me, can you please go?”

“He was always happier when he was with you. Whenever he was looking lonely, someone would piss him off so he’d get your assistance to prank us in revenge. I wouldn’t even have minded that flaming Hippogriff shit if I’d known it had got the two of you together.”

With that, Asher leaves the room. Oliver is again left in a state of confusion.

.

Within a week, Oliver is out of the hospital wing and back in the Hufflepuff dorm. It’s a bittersweet goodbye, him knowing that he’ll be back within three weeks, that it’ll be the same every month for the rest of his time at Hogwarts. Then, once he’s left, he’ll have to figure out how to cope with it in the real world.

Even thinking about his condition makes Oliver want to break down crying. The facts are still there in his head: there’s no cure. He’ll have it for the rest of his life. He might be able to live a mainly healthy life, but everyone knows that werewolves don’t live as long as the unaffected. He might be able to get sixty years, maybe seventy if he’s lucky, but he’ll never live a normal life.

Apparently there’s a lot of paperwork that goes along with being a werewolf. Oliver Hampton, the shy, nerdy Hufflepuff is now on the Ministry’s official werewolf register. In every form of wizarding documentation concerning him, his werewolf status is down in bold black ink, letting everyone know what he is, what he turns into. He’ll never be able to get a proper job, or be in the public eye. Whenever he meets new people, he’ll have to make the call - can he trust them? Can he let them know what he is? And he’ll always have to remember to take his potion on the nights of the full moon. Without it, everything he is could disappear.

Oliver, who was never adventurous, who never took risks, who always took the safe road, is a werewolf. The words don’t get easier to comprehend.

.

Oliver has never been the sort to go to parties, thinking them risky. He doesn’t know how firewhiskey makes its way into the castle, or the magical drugs that he doesn’t even want to think about. He’s starting to hear stories from the parties, involving Connor. It seems as though he’s at every one, drinking until he blacks out, sometimes mixing drink and drugs in what should be a lethal combination. He offhandedly mentions it to Laurel, a seventh year Ravenclaw student, when they’re sharing a table in the library, who gives him a look he can’t stand.

“You need to talk to him.” she says. Oliver makes a promise to himself to stop trusting Ravenclaws because of their supposed intelligence.

Oliver still upholds that, if anything, Connor is the one who needs to talk to him.

Still, his resolve begins to weaken as he sees Connor around the castle, sees his pallid skin and the bags under his eyes. This is a boy who takes great pride in his appearance, who never emerges looking anything less than perfect. It hurts Oliver to see this boy who has grown to mean so much to him looking like this. Connor has hurt him, but Oliver can’t stand by and watch this happen.

Seventh year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs have Herbology and DADA together. Connor always seems to arrive to class early so he can locate himself in a corner where no one can reach him. For a while, Oliver has just let him - thought he should work through it on his own, but on the third week of Connor coming to class looking like he hasn’t slept, Oliver knows he has to do something. He pulls the Slytherin boy aside after Herbology, knowing neither of them have another class for an hour. 

“We need to talk.” he says, grabbing onto Connor’s shoulder, dragging him past Greenhouse 3.

“I don’t want to.” Connor says, staring just past him. Oliver honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he was still high.

“Everyone’s worried about you.” Oliver says. “ _I’m_ worried about you. I wanted to give you your space, but space isn’t helping you at all.

“I told you I didn’t want this.” Connor says.

Oliver sighs. “I know you don’t do boyfriends. I’m doing this as a friend.”

Without warning, Connor bursts into tears. Luckily, the rest of the students have dispersed. Connor’s breathing becomes uneven, the words “I screwed up” attempting to come out between ragged breaths and uncontrollable sobs. Oliver has known the other boy for long enough to recognise this as a panic attack.

Oliver navigates the crying boy to a spot of grass where the two of them can sit. He puts his arm around Connor’s shoulder and talks to him, trying to get the crying to stop.

“It’s going to be okay.” Oliver says, ignoring the panic he feels at seeing Connor like this. “Just focus on your breathing, okay? Now look at me, look at me.”

Somehow, Connor’s eyes locking onto Oliver’s does something to both of them, something incredible. It could be seconds, or minutes, but the two of them stare at each other with a feeling of something like awe, or love, or forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry.” Connor says, looking away. “I can’t even look at you without feeling guilty. No one else knows what’s wrong with you, but I do. Your whole life has changed and it’s because of me. 

“I’m the same age as you.” Oliver says. “Older, even, by a few months. I made my own decisions, Connor. No one forced me to go into that Forest.”

“You could never say no to me.” Connor says, staring at his feet. 

“I never wanted to.” says Oliver honestly. “I never wanted to be where you weren’t.”

“I feel the same way.” Connor says suddenly. “I know, I know I don’t do boyfriends but if I did, I’d want it to be you. 

Oliver stares right ahead. “I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want.” he says carefully. “But I want you to be okay.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so worried about me when you should be worried about yourself.” Connor laughs. “I’m fine, I’m just… I’m just working things out. This is only for now.” He lowers his voice. “Lycanthropy is forever.”

Oliver sighs. “Look, it’s not fatal. I can still live a perfectly fine life.”

“You deserve better than fine.” The anger in Connor’s voice is clear and it only makes Oliver feel more in love with him.

“And you deserve better than casual.” Oliver says matter of factly, not expecting a reply.

Instead of a reply, he feels Connor’s lips suddenly on his. There’s not a moment in which Oliver thinks about it; muscle memory takes over as he leans into the kiss, trying not to think about whether it’s real or fake, forever or temporary. Connor has made him feel a full spectrum of emotions, but right now Connor is making him feel safe.

“I like you.” Connor says when he finally pulls away. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you too.” Oliver replies, smiling, knowing that he doesn’t yet have to say the word ‘love’, although he very easily could 

“It just feels so unfair.” Connor says. “I’ve been in the Forbidden Forest hundreds of times, I’ve always been someone who broke the rules. I took you in there once and…” he trails off. “It isn’t fair.”

“Maybe everything happens for a reason.” Oliver says. At the look on Connor’s face, he laughs. “Or maybe life just isn’t fair. You should try and come to terms with that.”

There are still tears on Connor’s face, but he’s never looked more beautiful to Oliver. He looks wrecked, but Oliver knows that he’d never trade this boy for anyone else.

“I don’t know if I do deserve better than casual,” Connor begins, “But I’d like to try.”

.

That evening, Connor sneaks Oliver into the Slytherin dormitory, using an invisibility charm and a bribe for the portrait at the door. Casting _Muffliato_ around the bed, the two of them climb in together.

“Are you going to be okay?” Connor asks. “I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault.”

“Don’t think that.” Oliver’s response is sharp. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. We all know the rumour about werewolves in the forest was _supposed_ to be just a rumour. They’re still investigating how it got in.” He stops, corrects himself. “He. That was a person.”

It suddenly hits him that that is who he could become. What he has is serious, what he has will not only hurt him but potentially harm or kill other people. He begins to shake, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Connor, who puts an arm around his shoulder.

“Your life is never going to be the same.” Connor says, the remorse and guilt in his voice so clear.

“No, it won’t.” Oliver says. He knows there’s no point pretending that it’s all okay.

“I’m always going to be here for you.” Connor says suddenly, with a rush of hot air.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Oliver says, smiling. Even though he knows it’s an unwise thing to say, it still means a lot.

“Since when did I ever break my promises?” Connor asks, teasingly.

“Well, I remember a certain promise.” Oliver says, raising an eyebrow, “I remember you saying you’d make it worth my while. 

“I guess I’d better follow through on that.” Connor says.

He reaches forward, taking Oliver’s face in his hands and kissing him like the world depends on it. For a while, the two of them take comfort in that, becoming reaquainted, realising who the other is, with all their faults and flaws and accepting every bit. Each kiss is an affirmation: _I know things about you and it doesn’t change how I feel. I know you've done stupid things but I want you. I know we’ve fucked up but I want to try._ Slowly, the heat rises, the two boys slowly removing clothes, taking joy in taking their time, in letting eyes run along expanses of flesh and their fingers, lips, tongues follow.

Oliver lies back on the bed, looking up at Connor through the lenses of his glasses. “I want you to fuck me.” he says in a way that makes the boy above him shiver. 

“I want this so much.” Connor says, letting his eyes rake over Oliver’s body. “I’ve always wanted this.”

Those words mean more to Oliver than a million kisses.

It’s hazy. This isn’t the first time they’ve had sex, by far, but it’s the first time they’ve had sex when they’ve been allowed to say everything they’re thinking. Muttered phrases emerge from their mouths that they never would have dared to say when they were just fucking, hands grip harder and fingers brush lighter and they hold each other closer than they ever had before.

Oliver sees Connor staring into his eyes and from the look he’s given, he knows what the boy is thinking. It’s a moment when neither of them have to speak, or make any noise at all - both of them know. They know they love each other. They know they’re sorry. They know they want to try.

They finish and lie side by side, arms and legs touching, hands intertwined. They lie there in silence for what must be an hour, content to share in the experience of breathing.

“So, what do you think?” Connor asks. “Did I make it worth your while?" 

“I don’t know. I think we might need another go, just to be sure.”

Connor jumps on top of Oliver and they try again.

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to jkr for using lycanthropy as a metaphor for HIV/AIDs and inspiring this fic
> 
> also shout out to me for not naming this fic any number of harry potter based innuendos


End file.
